Chapter 64: The Duel

The sun was particularly bright on the morning of the duel, with stray clouds drifting aimlessly across the striking blue canvas. The institution compound was bustling with a crowd by the time we arrived. All the high-profile folks in town seemed to have got wind of the upcoming fight and couldn’t stop themselves from joining in the fun. From most of my classmates and instructors to Guildmaster Rowin, the Headmaster, and even the Millates, all were among the spectators.

On one side of the compound stood Tribune Alexis Denarys with a frosty expression, donning full-plated armour, a longsword slung across his back. A squad of legionaries stood behind him imposingly; only Immunis Lucien and Shaper Ao were familiar faces among them. The rest of the instructors were among the rest of the crowd.

In contrast, Father wore a simple grey tunic, the blade on his hip his only preparation for the event. A few people came to greet us, among them the old Guildmaster, Headmaster of the Institution, Shaper Tullia, Instructor Delric—mostly those Father had got acquainted with after joining the Militia.

Most of them weren’t aware that Father had reached Fabled class, but even so, they had high hopes for him after learning about some of his abilities during the expedition.

“Be careful,” said Oldman Rowin, patting Father on the shoulder. “That lad seems to have borrowed a rather powerful relic for the duel.”

Father perked up at that and turned to Mum, whose gaze swiftly darted to the golden sword Alexis Daenerys carried. Her Influence spread briefly and focused solely on the weapon.

“A powerful one indeed,” she said, withdrawing her power. “Likely Epic Class, with high fire and light aspects.”

A few gasps sounded from those who understood the calibre of the weapon. The Somnus's Bell was merely an entry-grade relic, and it held sixty-four essence threads. An Epic class Relic should have at least eight times the number. Yet Father merely nodded as if it mattered little to him.

“I’ll make sure not to get a get by it," he said.

Mum showed not the slightest worry, which quenched my restless heart too. My eyes drifted to the sword on my father's hip. Apparently, it was a relic as well, though Father never drew it into his essence seed. I wondered what its grade was. The sheath restricted any kind of inspection, but even after studying the blade thoroughly with Father's permission, I made out nothing about it save for its devouring capability.

Whenever I tried to infuse my essence threads for a check, it would devour the essence. Fractal Sight, too, was helpless, as all it saw was an impending darkness devouring my perception. I guess that implies its class to be higher. At least on the epic scale, right?

While I suppressed my drifting thoughts, Mum turned to face the two prestigious class elders. Guildmaster Rowin was to act as the official referee for the duel, while Headmaster was mostly to watch the fight and make sure of the safety of his people.

“Before the fight begins,” Mum said, “it’s preferable to move all the audience to one side and build up a barrier. There is no fear of a wild spell wreaking collateral damage, but since there was an epic class relic at play, it doesn’t hurt to be safe.”

Both men agreed and began the preparations at once, drawing the crowd towards the institution buildings. Once the two duelists and oldman Rowin marched to the centre of the field, Mum played her part, erecting a large transparent dome around them, giving enough space to fight to their heart’s content without worrying about others’ safety. The grand display earned a few gasps from the crowd--astonishment from the few who understood the complexity at play, fear from the rest at the blatant display of power they hardly understood.

“Madam Ashlyn’s spell is splendid,” praised Guildmaster Rowin.

“Indeed,” agreed Headmaster Larius. “Both the display of Essence and Aura working together to create such a brilliant resonance—I fear no prestigious class could break through it in a short time.”

Curious, I drew closer to the transparent wall of the barrier, raising my palm to touch it. Fractal Sight already enabled me to see how profound its creation was. Mum had woven not only a diabolical four thousand and ninety-six essence threads to form the barrier, she had also enforced it with her aura, creating a strange oscillating vibration on its surface.

Drawing my palm back, I tentatively formed a fire arrow containing about half of my power and shot it into the barrier. Of course, I had no hope of breaking through its defences. However, what occurred utterly confounded me.

As soon as the fire arrow struck the barrier, the oscillating force spread the power widely to lower the impact, dispersing the fire in no time.

I craned my neck to find Mum. Her lips held a smile as she pointed to the duel that was about to begin.

Inside the dome, Father and Alexis stood a good distance apart in complete silence. Alexis drew his sword first—even its edges were gilded in gold, making it appear more ornamental than practical. But all such misconceptions were obliterated as soon as Tribune Alexis ignited its power. Golden flames burst from the blade, the flaming sword enlarging by another foot, its edges hidden within the blinding flare.

A large grin spread across Alexis’s face as he felt the intoxicating force rush through his arms. He took his stance, sword hilt gripped to his left, pointing upwards.

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“Draw your blade,” his voice boomed imperiously. “Or you won’t have a chance.”

Father’s eyes narrowed on the golden sword, his palm resting on his own blade, Ouroboros. But he didn’t unsheathe it.

“Not worth it,” he murmured.

“If both parties are ready,” announced Guildmaster Rowin, “begin!”

Alexis lurched into motion, his body springing forward, closing the distance between him and Father in the blink of an eye, his sword rushing in for a crippling blow.

Father was unfazed and finally lifted his arm from the pommel of his sword and moved.

His head ducked under the flaming sword, his left foot moving in a sinuous form, as though drifting through water, giving him enough elevation for his fist to strike below his opponent’s ribcage. The metal plate of his armour broke easily, and Alexis was flung away several metres, crashing into the barrier. The only consolation for him was that he managed to keep hold of the Epic Class relic.

With blood dripping from his lips, Alexis jumped to his feet, his face twisted in agony. Light rose from where Father’s fist had struck, and the injury there seemed to heal in no time.

“Regeneration?” Father asked, a little surprised, considering how rare the gift was among augmenters.

Alexis didn’t reply, his expression gloomy. The burning sword surged with more power, its light intensifying. Even his agility increased, as Alexis lurched forward once more. But the outcome hardly changed. A low sweep to his knee—then, before his body could fall, Father’s other leg struck him in the back, hurling him several metres away once again.

“Epic Class relic or not,” mumbled Headmaster Larius, “one has to learn how to use it properly.”

Mum shook her head. “He really borrowed it especially for this duel... Unfortunately, he can only draw out a fraction of its power with a mere eight threads binding.”

Alexis stood up, all his injuries healed. Unable to let go of the humiliation, he flared all his aura and formed a full-body armament, empowering both his offence and defence. At least he had learned other aura applications beyond coercion. Ignoring the prick Alexis was, the man was an elite.

But he wasn’t the only one who knew how to wield aura masterfully. A red oscillating glow covered Father’s fist as he waited for his opponent to make a move.

“You should have already figured out I’m far above your realm in both mastery and power,” Father said, eyes fixed on the approaching figure. “Why struggle needlessly?”

The golden sword fell, a sword-light hurling forward, aimed straight at Father. My heart lurched, but before my eyes could even follow, Father’s figure blurred, evading the sword-light with ease. The fiery beam crashed into the barrier and looked to bite through it, but the oscillating force multiplied at the impact point, dispersing the sharp edge of the attack.

“If you hadn’t threatened my family, I wouldn’t even have bothered to lower myself to duel you.”

Father blurred from his spot and in the next moment appeared on the young Augmenter’s left. Alexis swung his sword in an arc, but a fist broke through his helm and aura defence, smashing into his face. Splintered pieces of the helm hurled in all directions, his augmented cheekbones shattered, and even a couple of teeth flew out, blood bubbling up from his disfigured face.

Alexis withdrew. Regeneration triggered on its own, but before it could restructure his mangled face back to its original state, Father attacked again, smashing in a couple more punches and an elbow strike. The combo was too fast for my eyes to track, even with my heightened mental faculties. Only when it ended did I see the armour fractured in multiple places, blood gushing out from the cracks, with the smug tribune’s face now mutilated.

Even his Regeneration was struggling to keep up with the injuries, especially with the insidious aura impeding the recovery process. Alexis fell onto his back, his face a mask of tears and blood.

Father didn’t attack immediately—perhaps waiting for his opponent to admit defeat—but the patrician lordling rolled over and tried to stand back up. If nothing else, he had guts.

He armed his first with the menacing dark aura again when a loud, feminine voice reverberated:

“Had enough fun bullying a kid? How about someone your own size?”

Immediately, everyone’s gaze turned to the other side where the legionaries stood. A figure that had been hidden until now stepped forward, facing Father, her eyes glaring with battle lust.

“Selene?” Mother’s expression shifted. "Why are you here?"

“Ashlyn,” replied the woman with a curt nod, though her focus quickly returned to Father.

She was half a head shorter than Mum, appearing to be about the same age, with shoulder-length, trimmed hair. She wore thick leather trousers and a topcoat that appeared to be a blend of legionary uniform and magus robes. A black staff was strapped to her hips, a pouch hung from her belt, and the insignia of a sword and four stars on her chest revealed her rank—equal to Rosalyn’s father’s and only below that of a Legate.

“I haven’t seen you in a decade,” my mother said. “And you still haven’t changed a bit.”

Primus Selene sniffed, inspecting my mother. Her eyes soon found me and easily connected our relationship.

“I wish I could say the same,” she said. “If not for your exterior remaining the same, I’m afraid I wouldn’t even recognise you.”

Mum had no reply to that and finally dispersed the barrier she had erected for the duel.

“Well, this has gone on longer than it should have,” Selene said. “Ambrose?”

A stocky figure of a Myrmidon in full-plated armour stepped forward and saluted with his palm on his heart, ready to receive orders.

“Retrieve the relic and...” Her gaze paused on the struggling figure of Alexis. Though his wound was not crippling, the plated armour he wore was in complete disarray—its power unit had been splintered, the inner runes and essence veins had withered in places where Father struck, and even outwardly, cracks and damage marred the surface. Needless to say, the repairs would be a pain, especially considering it was an Elite Class piece.

But of course, the tribune felt he still hadn’t had enough. “Dominus,” rasped Alexis, clutching the hilt tightly as he stood up, “it isn’t over. I can still fight. I can…”

Selene waved her hand and had the golden sword drawn towards her. She handed it to Ambrose. “And put him to rest.”

“As you wish,” said the stocky man and immediately got to work. A couple of legionaries joined him as they put away the Epic Class relic into a long, luxurious hardwood box. Alexis had his complaints, but Ambrose looked very much like he’d ‘put him to rest’ for good if he created a scene.

They brought the box to Selene, who waved her palm over it as dozens of essence threads sprang into motion, sealing it with a peculiar essence lock.

Finally, Primus Plius Selene crept slowly towards Father, taking a stance where her underling had a moment ago. “Now, do you have the guts to fight me, Ashamen?”

Father arched an eyebrow, though his expression didn’t change.

“Wait, Selene,” it was Mum who spoke up. “You can’t be doing this here.”

The woman scowled at Mum. “All these years, and it seemed you’ve gone too soft. I was thinking of battling you after putting him down, but...” She clicked her tongue. “You disappoint me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Mum glared at her old acquaintance. “If you want to fight, go to the mountains. Nobody would complain even if a piece of it goes missing. Let's not reduce this fine institution to rubble.”